My friend sits back, and gazes in wonder at my unique wisdom. I've done it! I'm a great listener - even when I'm not listening!

'Bravo,' he says, which is weird, because I didn't think anyone said 'bravo' any more.

'But back to the car,' he says. 'Option A or option B? Silver or black?'

'Oh. Er ... silver.'

'Because I think black.'

'That's what I think too.'

And then I consider how lucky it is that some men can't listen, and others can't talk.

'Hey,' I say. 'What happens if you cross the streams?'

'Total protonic reversal,' says my friend.

But it's also good that when it comes to the really important stuff, we're always there for each other.

SEX

I am in the linen section of John Lewis with my wife when I realise we are lost.

'Don't panic,' I tell her, putting on my most reassuring face. 'We will survive this.'

It turns out my most reassuring face is also my most disconcerting.

I look around, trying to spot anyone who might be able to tell us how to get out of here, but our fellow shoppers seem as lost as we are, with their dead eyes and blank faces, listlessly picking up display cushions and holding them to the light, just for something to do.

And then I spot him. A shop attendant. A burly man with a haircut like Pob. He's got a clipboard and he's doing something important.

'Let's ask that man!' I say, loudly and quite gregariously, smiling as I do so to put him at his ease and encourage him to give us correct information. He looks around himself, in case I mean someone else, and so I point at him, and say, 'Excuse me, fella!'

I smile even more broadly this time, because I need this man's help. I've been putting on a brave face, but I cannot stress just how important it is that I am no longer in the linen section of John Lewis.

But as I bound over to him, he is frowning at me.

And then I realise.

He is a woman.

I am suddenly lost for words. What have I done? I think back to what I've just said.

Fella.

This is bad. This is very bad. This is worse than when I put my hand up at school and accidentally called my teacher 'Mum'.

But ... maybe there's a way out. I mean, is 'fella' really a word that applies only to men?

Yes.

But surely, in these enlightened times, 'fella' can be just a friendly greeting. I mean, you can say 'guys', can't you, when you're referring to a mixed group? Maybe it's the same with 'fella'! Maybe I can get away with this! Maybe I can claim I was just being casual! 'Fella' doesn't have to mean 'male'! Who said anything about being male?